


With You at the Helm

by romanticalgirl



Series: Crowded Room [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Stever Rogers is a little shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 12:51:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15863982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: Tony does what he's told (for once), but only because he's a shit. Steve is also a shit.Bucky hates his life.





	With You at the Helm

Bucky walks out of his bedroom toward the kitchen, not even blinking at the full coffee pot. He’s learned there’s absolutely no reason to be surprised by anything electronic doing something on its own because Tony. He just pours himself a cup, doctors it just right and heads back to his bedroom. He’s through the door when he stops, turns, and walks directly back to the living room.

“What the fuck.”

Steve -- the asshole from the locked room mystery building -- is sitting on his couch. He’s dressed in khaki pants, a dark blue dress shirt, and black glasses, his bangs flopping over his forehead. 

“What the fuck.”

“You have a meeting in a half hour. That should give you enough time to drink your coffee, shower, and get dressed. I think your hair’s a lost cause.” Steve glances down at the Starkpad on his lap, then up at Bucky. “Let me know how you like your coffee. That should cut a few minutes off your morning routine.”

“What. The. Fuck.”

“Mr. Stark hired me like you told him to.”

“I also told him I never wanted to see you again, because you’re an asshole.”

“Actually, you just told him not to subject you to me again, and he said that was your way of asking for me personally. Who am I to argue with Tony Stark?”

“I sleep naked.”

Steve blinks, seemingly unfazed. “So do I. I’m not sure what bearing that has on the situation.”

“And I don’t need a secretary. FRIDAY has my schedule. Tells me what I need to know. FRIDAY? Give me my schedule, please.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Mr. Barnes. Mr. Stark has informed me that all information, save that which is battle related, is to go through Mr. Rogers.”

Bucky stares at the air, because he doesn’t have a fixed location to stare at when he’s dealing with FRIDAY. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“I don’t think AIs really do the whole kidding thing. And now you have twenty-five minutes. And you really do need that shower. Also your coffee’s going to get cold.” Steve snaps his fingers. “Chop-chop.”

“I’m going to kill Tony.”

“He said you’d say that. And I should remind you that you’ve tried that before, and it didn’t really work out, so suck it up, buttercup. And that’s a direct quote.”

“Fucking….” Bucky cuts himself off and turns on his heel, stalking back into the bedroom. He drinks down half of his coffee -- now colder than he likes it -- and heads for the shower. 

“Twenty-four minutes now, Mr. Barnes.”

**

Everyone stares at Steve when he follows Bucky into the room. Everyone except Stark who’s grinning like the cat that got the cream. Sam Wilson -- Falcon, Steve knows -- raises both eyebrows and looks at Tony. 

“New Avenger?”

“This is Steve Rogers.” Tony answers, as if that tells any of them anything other than Steve’s name. 

“I’m Mr. Barnes’s secretary.”

“ _Barnes_ has a secretary?” 

Tony shrugs. “He told me to hire the guy since his place of employment was destroyed for being a corporation run by reincarnated Nazi evil. Widow did recon. Guy checked out. He really does need the health insurance.”

“I told you I didn’t want to see him again,” Bucky snaps, annoyed by the situation almost as much as he is by the fact that Steve was right and he didn’t have enough time to do anything with his hair except drag it up into a shaggy ponytail. 

“I read between the lines.”

“There weren't lines. There was _line_. Nothing to read between. Or above. Or below.“ Bucky slumps down in his seat. “I hate you.” He points at Natasha. “You too.”

“Tony has me run a background check on all new employees. Don’t feel special. He didn’t get any extra vetting because he’s working for you.”

“Working under you,” Tony says with an eyebrow waggle. “Working for me, that way you can’t make him do something else.”

“How come I don’t get a secretary?” Clint asks. Steve glances at him. Hawkeye. He’s not wearing anything that identifies him as such, but Steve can see the calluses on his fingers from his bowstring. “I have outside ventures. I bet I’ve got more shit to keep track of than Barnes does.”

“You can have him.” 

Steve tilts his head and throws his gaze at Bucky, eyes wide and lower lip stuck out. Someone snorts a laugh and Bucky turns his head to Steve. He looks away immediately and puts his elbows on the table, burying his face in his hands. 

“You’re going to your own special hell, Stark.”

“You’re not the first to say that.” Tony grins smugly. “Okay. Let’s get this going. Rogers, you take notes, would you? FRIDAY? You’ve got the morning off.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Tony waves his hand. “You’ve earned it. Go have a little extra zap of arc reactor. Go crazy.”

FRIDAY doesn’t respond, and no one can blame her. Steve readies his Starkpad and stylus. Bucky watches him out of the corner of his eye and sighs. This is going to be a long fucking day.

**

The next day he wakes up to Steve in his apartment, a cup of coffee that’s way too sweet, and Steve sitting on his couch looking like a twink librarian in his khaki pants, white t-shirt, cardigan, and glasses. 

He drinks the coffee as he glares at Steve who ignores him just as easily as he did in the room they were locked in together. Bucky thought he hated reincarnated Nazi evil before this. Right now he wants to shove his metal arm up someone’s ass so hard he breaks their teeth. He snarls. “What?”

“You have a press conference in two hours.”

“I don’t do press conferences.”

“And an interview an hour after that wraps up.”

“I definitely don’t do fucking interviews.”

Steve glances up at him, blinking owlishly, his lashes long and dark. “You do now. Mr. Stark has asked that I help you get acclimatized to being a face of the Avengers instead of, and I quote, ‘lurking in the shadows like a fucking Yeti.’”

“I was a fucking _assassin_. I’m a _sniper_. My job is to lurk!”

“You’re more visible than you realize, and the public wants to know more about you. Ms Potts has limited the press conference to just you and Mr. Stark, so you’re likely not going to have to say much at all. Mostly he’s going to be talking about his new prototype prosthetics he’s created from the technology of your arm. In an effort to continue to make up for the Stark weapon manufacturing, he’s providing them free of charge to veterans.”

“I...Huh.”

“And the interview is with a sympathetic reporter. I have a copy of the questions that we’ll go over throughout the day.”

Bucky’s about to say something, then stops. Sighs. “This isn’t how I take my coffee.”

Steve does a shitty job of hiding his grin as he glances down at his Starkpad. “Noted, Mr. Barnes.”

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

Steve looks him dead in the eye. “Very well, sir.”

Bucky wants it noted that, even though he stalks to his bedroom, he doesn’t scream.


End file.
